Tempting Fate, Charming Dreams
by Malady Pond du LesHeuresRoses
Summary: "What is it about her that holds you so enthralled?" The question lingered in his ear. / Cole meets a woman who has him rethinking his plans. / begins during Sam, I Am, with timeline fudgery / Adult situations, mild violence / ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

_I'd had this fic up on my other account, but I decided to tinker with a few things, and it made more sense for me to have everything I'm working on in the same place. It's going to be a somewhat strange thing, with a few characters questioning reality, and I'll be fudging the timeline/episode order quite a bit. Yes, there will be some moments of passion (starting with the end of this chapter), but it's not going to be every chapter or the main part of the story._  
 _This story starts during the episode,_ Sam, I Am _, and Cole is pondering a question that was posed to him by a seemingly unremarkable woman._

"What is it about her that holds you so enthralled?" she had asked him with her soft English accent.

The question lingered in his ear. It had been days since their encounter at that dive bar, and she could barely have been called a beautiful woman, but he found he couldn't forget her.

Phoebe Halliwell had been the woman he loved beyond reason, and she no longer wanted anything to do with him. His love for her was slowly driving him insane.

Or maybe it was all the demonic powers coursing through him that was wreaking havoc on his sanity.

It would be easy enough to create an illusory world where they were still together, but he knew he'd still be able to see through the charade. He wanted more. He wanted that sweet little witch to love him again.

Cole Turner did not lose.

Was that it? He couldn't admit failure? Was that what kept him holding on to that old dream?

Perhaps there was another way to win.

He crossed over to the wet bar and poured a drink. "Hello, Cerise," he greeted without turning.

She shimmered onto the sofa a moment later, a smile on her cherry-red lips. "Hello, Cole. Have you thought about what I said?"

He handed her the whisky he had poured. "Of course. It was a good question." He sat beside her and made himself comfortable. "There was a part of me - a rather large part - that wanted to believe I was really still in love with her. Over the past few weeks, though, I've come to a painful realisation."

She arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow as if to ask what it was.

"I was clinging to an idealised image of what we once had. We were good together, Phoebe and I, for a time . . . but we were never meant to be. I was meant to kill her or corrupt her. If not for my attempts to change, to be _good_ for her sake, I wouldn't have lost my demon half. Maybe it took an unbiased look to help me see that."

"Ah, but, had Belthazor not been vanquished, you might not have become the Source. We wouldn't be sitting here now."

He brushed a lock of dark auburn hair back from her face. "Had that part of me not been extinguished, might we still have crossed paths?"

"You were an upper-level demon, part of an elite brotherhood. I sow discord in my wake. I wasn't even a blip on your radar in those days, was I? But I remember hearing of your exploits. Oh, we were all fascinated by you." She grinned at the memory. "What do you have planned now?" she asked.

He lifted a shoulder and admitted he wasn't sure. "But I think they'll be coming for me soon. I sort of sent a Tracker after the family."

"How devious! He could take out Leo. Or Paige. Or her father." The mere idea of the Charmed Ones being but a memory was enough to thrill her.

"Or all three. But that's not really why I sent him. I wanted to show the sisters how easily I could rid myself of them." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. "What are you doing the rest of the afternoon?"

She chuckled, soft and low. "I'm all yours."

Cerise gasped as he lifted her off the sofa, yelped when he divested the both of them of their clothing with the licks of flames, screamed when he thrust himself into her. Being trapped between the wall and his tall, muscular body sent shockwaves of pleasure through her. The taste of his skin was intoxicating.

Every movement had him grunting and moaning. He flung her onto a glass-topped end table and thrust harder, deeper, faster until she was writhing and crying out beneath him. She clawed at him, leaving fleeting rivulets of blood along his skin, whimpering and begging for release.

He could have dragged that moment on forever, tortured her with his maneuvers, but he, too, desired that deliciously explosive moment. They were so close to the edge, they could reach out and touch it. Welts formed where he clutched her to him. He buried his face in her neck as he finally spilled himself within her.

No one had made him feel so truly and utterly wanted since he couldn't remember when. The way her fingers ran through his hair, the look in her eyes as she gazed up at him, the sound of his name on her lips . . . It was enough to make him feel like a king.

And he knew he'd taken her past the point of ecstasy to that place where pleasure and pain meet and mingle.


	2. Chapter 2

"Stand up," Phoebe commanded once she and her sisters orbed into the penthouse. She had to stay strong or they wouldn't succeed.

Cole remained seated but leaned back far enough so she could see him remove his wedding band. The photo of him with Phoebe stood on the desk next to that letter he'd decided to write to . . . He wasn't entirely sure why he'd written it. After everything they'd been through together, he doubted she'd even bother reading this one.

"I said stand up!" she repeated. If they were going to vanquish him, they were going to give him some measure of dignity. Let him face his death like a man.

It was time.

He rose slowly and turned to face them. "Come to vanquish me, have you?" He would've laughed if not for the gravity of the situation. Three vials of potion? Did they honestly think that would be enough?

"Where's your hitman?" Piper demanded ruefully.

 _'So forceful, this one,'_ he mused. _'She might've made a good queen.'_ "Oh, you know those darklighters. They're just so difficult to work with. Can't even kill one lousy whitelighter, much less the three of you."

Phoebe glared at him. "But _you_ could have."

"Bastard," Paige hissed as she threw her vial at his feet.

He merely glowered at them, taunting them wordlessly to continue on their quest for vengeance.

Piper hurled her vial at him, then looked over at her sister. _'Why is she hesitating?'_ "Phoebe, come on."

"I know what you're doing," she informed her ex-husband.

"Phoebe, throw the potion," Paige urged.

Phoebe ignored her sisters' pleas. "You never really wanted to kill us, did you?"

"What are you talking about?" Paige asked, confused.

"He could've killed you back at the manor; he had you alone," she reminded her younger sister. "But you needed all of us to survive for your plan to work. Including Sam."

 _'Perceptive, isn't she?'_ Cerise's voice sounded in his head.

Piper had had enough of this dilly-dallying. "Phoebe, have you lost your mind?" _'Or fallen in love with him again like a -'_ She stopped herself from even thinking that; it was too ludicrous.

"No, you said it yourself. It wasn't a smart plan. Unless you didn't really want to kill us. You just wanted us to be so blinded by hate that we couldn't see what you were really up to."

 _'She got that part right,'_ Cerise admitted.

 _'I could let them think it worked, let them believe they've vanquished me,'_ Cole thought back to her.

 _'That would be easy for you. Is it really what you want to do?'_

"Yeah, well, it's the only way out for me. And you want it, too, so . . ." _'So hurry up and throw the potion so we can both move on.'_

 _'I could finally close this chapter of my life.'_ "Yeah, but on our terms, not yours. We won't help you commit suicide."

 _'Aha, she wants you dead, but not if you're ready and willing to accept it. What a bizarrely sadistic girl she is,'_ Cerise scoffed.

He gazed at Phoebe, almost longing for the simpler days when he was assistant district attorney and she was a bright-eyed young girl on the brink of womanhood and still coming into her powers.

And, now, it was over.

"You already have." Telekinetically, he jerked the third vial towards himself and set a fireball radiating from his entire body until it erupted throughout the room.

The force sent the trio of witches toppling to the floor. Shards of glass went flying everywhere, showering the floor and balcony with glittery splinters. When the Halliwells managed to get back to their feet, they all nearly screamed at the sight in front of them.

 _'What a rush,'_ Cole thought, heady with the knowledge that even the Charmed Ones could not destroy him.

 _'Now, now,'_ Cerise chided. _'Act disappointed that you're still alive. Make them question what's in front of them.'_

"I don't understand. That should've worked!" Paige exclaimed, horrified at their failure.

"Why didn't it?" Piper asked, already planning the next batch of potions they would brew.

"They knew it wouldn't work," he mumbled glumly. He needed to keep them guessing for a little while longer.

"Who knew? What're you talking about?" Phoebe wondered if he'd completely lost his mind. A part of her blamed herself for this mess; maybe if she hadn't fallen to the temptation to become Cole's queen . . . or if she hadn't helped him fake his death before that . . . A thousand ifs raced through her mind.

"You can't vanquish me. Nobody can." He turned his back on the Charmed Ones before they could see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

* * *

 _a rooftop restaurant overlooking Paris_

"Did it all go according to plan?"

"Even. Better." Cole clinked his wine glass against hers. "The looks on their faces when they saw I'd survived were priceless!"

"I wish I could've peeked in," Cerise sighed. "The little bit I got from you was -" She giggled briefly.

"You little minx. Do you actually expect me to believe you weren't watching the whole time?"

She pouted. "If I did, could you really blame me? Especially when you put on such a fiery show for them." She glanced away from him suddenly. There was a particular scent in the air that night.

"Cerise?"

She shot him a Mona Lisa-like smile. "I have a little work to do. Shouldn't take me more than a few minutes."

He nodded, then grinned as he watched her sashay past a young couple. The young man turned from his girlfriend to watch Cerise's hips sway. Cole could almost hear a drumbeat sounding out the rhythm of her walk. Or maybe that was the ticking of the seconds before that girlfriend began screaming at her young man for ogling another woman so blatantly.

When she made her way back to him, he could swear her dress was cut just a fraction of an inch lower in the front. That slit in her long red skirt showed off her legs in a way that was far more enticing than any miniskirt might have been.

The young couple was having a hushed yet heated exchange.

"Nicely done," Cole murmured.

"Well, let's see how things progress. Or end, rather," she winked.

The young woman was livid. They could hear her calling him names even they had never heard before. He tried to apologise to her, but she just shook her head at him. When he tried to put his arms around her, she stood up and flung her drink in his face.

Cole reached across the table to hold Cerise's hand. She gazed back at him with such adoration that he was almost able to let himself think this was real, that they truly were the couple in love that they were letting the world see them as.

But he reminded himself that this was just an illusion. A bit of fun they were having while he had his revenge.

"And all you had to do was walk past him."

"Please. He was prone to a wandering eye. And I am, after all, the Temptress."


	3. Chapter 3

_Fair warning for teasing femslash_

Phoebe wandered around the penthouse, unsure of what she was looking for. There was something she wanted . . . something . . . Something that should be hers.

A thud sounded from the bedroom, followed by a muffled scream. That was definitely not Cole's voice. Was someone in trouble? Had he taken to killing witches again? If he had, this was a new method. He used to simply kill them where he found them, not bring them home and torture them.

Something didn't feel right.

Phoebe took a deep breath and made her way to the bedroom door, ready to attack the demon and defend the poor innocent Cole had imprisoned.

She flung the door open and gasped. The sight that met her eyes was certainly not one of torture. A woman's back was to her, bare and as pale and luminescent as moonlight. Her hair was like rich chocolate seen through a cherry glaze, and she wanted a taste.

She shook herself, wondering how her mind had wandered to such a thought. There, on the bed she'd once shared with him, the woman was astride Cole, and his eyes were half-closed in an expression Phoebe remembered well.

 _'Damn, he looks good like that,'_ she thought before she could stop herself. The memory of the last time they'd made love - _really_ made love - came flooding back, unwanted yet tempting. It had been before the Source had invaded that void left when Belthazor had been vanquished. His touch had been gentle that night, so completely human. All his whispered words were promises she had believed he would keep. He would love her forever. He would never hurt her. He would be there to protect her. There would never be anyone else for him.

Yet here he was, with another woman, the same night he'd been so distraught over losing Phoebe that he'd attempted suicide-by-witch. His large hands ran up and down her body, guiding her movements, spurring her to move just a little bit faster. When his eyes rolled back, Phoebe knew he was close to the point of ecstasy. The woman cried out and leaned back briefly before impaling herself upon him once more. Their bodies went into rhythmic convulsions, like some erotic ballet. They were beautiful together.

Cole turned a lazy eye toward his ex-wife. "Hey, Phoebe."

"Phoebe?" the other woman murmured as she turned to regard the intruder for herself. "This is . . . Hmm."

Phoebe inched forward, intrigued by the expression on her face. She was pretty, but not the kind of woman who would have made her jealous under other circumstances or if . . . if she had any right to be. Cole was no longer hers, she reminded herself. And he had moved on already; they both had. She wondered if his attempts at reuniting had all been a ploy, part of some twisted plan to . . .

To do what, exactly? To undermine her confidence? To lure her away from her sisters? To break up the Power of Three? For plain old spite?

The woman had risen from the bed and sauntered over to Phoebe. "I know this must be awkward for you. To see your husband with someone else, even though you're divorced, must be -" She shook her head softly.

Phoebe couldn't tear her eyes away from her. They were roughly the same height. That smooth skin, the curves of her body, the not-quite-humanness of her presence, and the scent of gardenias wafting from her made her want to know more about her. "Who _are_ you?"

Her shimmering red lips curved into a friendly smile. "My name is Cerise. Would you care to stay the night with us?"

She made her way closer to her, her full bosom rising and falling seductively, her hips swaying hypnotically with every step. She was almost close enough to press her lips -

Phoebe awoke with a gasp. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. That nude woman had practically propositioned her! _'It was just a dream. It didn't mean anything,'_ she told herself. At the back of her mind, though, she knew her dreams were never _just_ dreams. Her power of premonition gave her insight while she slept.

And that woman - _Cerise_ \- seemed as though she knew more about her lover's former wife than made her comfortable.

* * *

"Gardenias," Cerise stated when she opened her eyes.

"Gardenias?" Cole raised an eyebrow.

She sat up and turned to study his face. "Does she not like gardenias?"

"She preferred roses," he recalled.

She tilted her head. "Hmm. How cliché. I got the distinct fragrance of gardenias when I linked into her dream. Maybe the moonlight made her think of them."

"Moonlight? Nice touch." He reached a hand up to play with a loose lock of her hair.

"Thank you. She's seen me with you. In the bed you shared with her. And it gave her a twinge of jealousy."

He scoffed at that. The little witch had made it clear that she didn't want anything to do with him. She felt nothing for him. The thought of Phoebe getting _jealous_ at seeing him with someone else almost made him laugh.

"Yes. Jealous. Not that she'd admit to it. But I think all women feel that way about old flames. How long do you think I should wait before I send her another glimpse?"

He propped himself up on his elbow. "Oh, not too long. A couple of days, at least. Let her stew a bit. In the meantime -" He pulled her close for a deep, lingering kiss that she felt down to her heels.

"Oh, Cole," she whispered when he moved down to her neck. She had never met anyone like him. No one had ever left her wanting more. For once, she was happy to be the one who was seduced. When he rolled himself on top of her, her legs wrapped around his hips, enticing him to enter her again. She whimpered as he began thrusting into her. No matter how much he gave her, she feared she would never get enough.

Something made him stop and gaze at her curiously. "What's wrong?" he asked softly.

"Wrong?"

"You're crying."

She touched a finger to her cheek. Her face was wet. "That's odd. I nev- But there's never been anyone like you."

A growl sounded from deep within him. _There's never been anyone like you._ He planned to show her that there would never _be_ anyone like him again, either. His lips found places that had never before been caressed. She clung to him the way no woman had in the past, as though she were afraid this would be the last time he held her and she wanted to make this night last as long as she could.


	4. Chapter 4

_With thanks to reviewers/subscribers, ColeTurner21 and dogloverlisathekud!_

The remnants of their dinner lay forgotten on the table; the candles had burned down to flickering nubs. A gentle breeze tickled the gauzy curtains. Bolts of lightning pierced the night sky, with waves of thunder rolling along the balcony soon after. The demonic duo sat entangled on the sofa by the fireplace.

He teased the tip of his tongue up the side of her neck, eliciting a low moan from her. "Oh, my delicious little seductress," he whispered against her petal-soft skin.

She giggled breathlessly as she stretched her legs out across his lap. "Temptress, my dear."

He caught her jaw in his strong fingers, eyes full of fire. "To everyone else, you are the Temptress. You are _my_ seductress. And this -" He smoothed a hand slowly down her body. "- is mine to pleasure."

"And what pleasure you bring me, my enticer," she murmured dreamily before capturing his bottom lip between her own.

He felt a familiar sensation coursing its way through his bones; his hand caressed her thigh. "Cerise? This skirt is very bothersome. So is this camisole. I must insist that you remove them at once."

"At once?" She smirked. "How about I remove them . . . at last?"

Sultry jazz music filled the penthouse as she waltzed across the room. She kept her back to Cole while her skirt inched its way down her legs. He fought the temptation to rip every last thread from her form and decided to sit back and enjoy the show.

The cotton candy pink camisole had been pulled up over her head, revealing a black and silver bustier. She winked at him over her bared shoulder.

His appreciation of her dancing was evident.

"You are much too far away from me," he remarked huskily.

Slowly, she made her way towards him, her hips keeping time to the plaintive notes of the saxophone. The bustier made its way to the floor.

"Mmmm . . . I can think of a better use for your tie than neckwear," she teased as she settled onto his lap. "And for this belt."

His fingers tangled in her hair. "Oh, I'll bet you can, you naughty girl."

He pulled her into his embrace then lowered her to the floor. The taste of her kiss was sending him over the edge. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders before undoing the buttons of his shirt.

Her fingers had just begun working on his trousers when an insistent knocking sounded.

Cerise grunted in frustration at the interruption.

"Who could that be, banging at our chamber door?" he mumbled into her breast. Reluctantly, he pushed himself up to see who was calling on them.

"Ah! The demon formerly known as Belthazor," a slender middle-aged man in a grey suit greeted as he bowed. "Please, sir, might I come in?"

Cole cleared his throat. "Uh, yes. Cerise, it seems we have company."

She rose slowly, pulling on a satin dressing gown as she did. "Good evening," she greeted warmly. "What brings you to our humble abode during this lovely thunderstorm?"

The suited man bowed again. "The storm _is_ beautiful, my lady, but I fear I come on urgent business. Forgive me, Mr Turner, but it was my hope that you might be able to protect me."

"Protect you?" He raised an eyebrow. "And why would I do that?"

"I am a dark priest; I could be of use to you."

Cerise conjured a tea service. "Who is it that you need protecting from? Please, sir, sit down and warm yourself by the fire."

"A trio of witches. Oh, thank you," he replied as he accepted the cup of tea she offered. "I believe they wish to utilise my powers."

Cole remained standing. "What powers would those be, Mister . . ."

"George. Roderick George. You must forgive my lack of manners, sir, but I've scarcely stopped to rest in a week. Every time I've so much as paused to catch my breath, they try to capture me. I can, of course, endow others with powers, perform ceremonies, rituals, that sort of thing, but I also have clairsentience and a few other tricks I've learned over the decades."

"Clairsentience? Interesting. A trio of witches, you said?" Cole's mind was racing. "Not the Charmed Ones?"

"Oh, my stars, no. Three blondes. Not terribly, well, bright, if you don't mind my saying so, but very determined. It'll only be a matter of time before they catch up with me again. Then, there's no telling what they might do. What they might want me to do _for_ them."

Cerise tapped her chin. "That does sound vexing. Do you think they'll follow you here?"

He considered this. "I doubt it. They did seem to have a bit of sense, perhaps enough to know better than to cross the former Source."

She caught Cole's eye. _'What do you make of this?'_

 _'I'm not sure. He seems a decent . . . bloke. Do you want to keep him as a pet?'_

 _'Well, the thought had crossed my mind,'_ she admitted. _'He could be useful in our service.'_

 _'But to what end?'_

 _'Whatever end we choose, of course.'_ "Now, then, Mr George, can you sense their current location?"

"Yes, my lady." His eyes glazed over. "They are across the street, procuring a hotel room. Oh, they don't seem happy about something."

Cole smiled. "Good. We can keep track of them better if they're close by. Do they have many powers of their own?"

"From what I could tell, sir, most of their powers - apart from the spellcasting and potion brewing - were pilfered from demons. They did say something that made me think they have been working with a Power Broker."

"Power Broker . . ." Cerise hissed.

"Oh, they're not so bad," Cole reminded her gently. "Some of them can be quite useful. In any case, I'm sure Mr George would like to rest. We can discuss things further in the morning."

The weary priest looked up with renewed hope. "Oh, thank you, sir! You won't regret this!"

"See that we don't. The guest room is down that hallway and to the right. Would you care for something to eat?"

"Uh, no . . . no. I'm much too tired to even entertain the notion at the moment. If you don't mind, I should like to retire for the night."

"Yes, of course," Cerise assured him. "I'll just see you to your room and make sure you're comfortable."

Cole waited until they disappeared around the corner to fade out of the penthouse.


	5. Chapter 5

_I have no idea how long I'll wind up making this story. Cole's such a fascinating character, and I keep having these . . . thoughts . . ._  
 _And thank you, NarutoLovesFemKyuubi and gabyhyatt!_

"And where did you go off to at this hour, my dear?" Cerise asked from the comfort of their bed.

"Oh," Cole murmured. "Just taking care of a little business."

She shot him a gentle look that demanded he continue speaking.

"Okay, okay . . . I went to . . . talk . . . to those three witches Roderick said were following him. Turns out they were."

"They were?"

"They had planned on coming up here and ambushing us."

"Not a good plan."

"No, it wasn't. Which is what I told them. Those fools won't be bothering Roderick anymore. Or us. Did you get him settled in all right?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes, he's fine. What happened over there?"

"I . . . may have . . . vanquished them . . . along with the power broker who employed them . . . and taken the powers they were holding."

Her eyes danced. "So quickly? Did they have anything interesting?"

He shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie. "Pretty run-of-the-mill stuff. The basics, really. Energy balls, conjuration, teleporting . . . Abilities we both already have in abundance."

"Oh."

"You sound disappointed, Cerise," he noted, bemused.

"Well, I am," she pouted. "But can you blame me? I had hoped they might have _something_ we could have some fun with. What will you do with those powers?"

"Sell them to the highest bidder, of course." Her expression gave him pause. "Did you have something else in mind?"

She tapped a finger against her chin. "Couldn't you . . . give one or two of those powers to Roderick? He's so grateful to you for letting him stay here; imagine how he'll feel if you give him a way to defend himself."

He mulled that idea over. "We can talk about it in the morning. Right now, all I want to do is climb into bed and focus on you."

She giggled. "Oh, well, in that case . . . What are you doing all the way over there and why are your clothes still on?"

He faded from her sight and reappeared, completely bared, between her body and the covers. "Is this what you had in mind, my saucy little minx?" he teased.

His hands roamed up to her shoulders to tear her lacy nightgown away from her skin. "You really should just walk around naked; it would save me the trouble of destroying what you're wearing all the time."

"And deny you the fun of undressing me? I think not! Oh!" she gasped as his mouth found a pert nipple ready for his attention.

He moaned contentedly as his lips explored her more urgently. Her breath hitched in her throat, causing her to arch her back. His arm snaked beneath her, eager to pull her ever closer to him. His free hand glided down her waist to clutch a shapely hip. She whispered his name into his hair as her fingers slid up and down his back.

He pulled himself away from her just as her whimpers and moans began to grow louder. His pleasure swelled when he noticed the adoring look in her eyes. "We have . . . all . . . night," he promised. "And many more to come."

She took in the sight of him, so tall and strong and in control. Her hands glided up his body, stroking his toned stomach, drawing random patterns on his firm chest, to his broad shoulders. "This night could last forever, it still wouldn't be enough."

The realisation hit him like a shot through the heart (a sensation he was rather familiar with): no matter how much he got of her, he would forever be wanting more. With a grunt, he pushed himself into her, wishing he could meld his body with hers. "Don't. Move," he commanded.

But she couldn't stop herself. Her hips moved of their own accord, enticing him to slide back and forth within her. She hoisted herself up, eager to have her lips caress his already glistening skin. His arms encircled her, capturing her in his embrace.

"I said . . . Don't. Move," he reminded her.

"I need to feel you," she informed him breathlessly. "All of you. Every inch of you against every inch of me."

He growled and shoved her back onto the pillows. "Is _this_ what you want?" he taunted her as he moved frantically with her.

Her legs flailed in the air before he caught her ankles and used them as leverage to probe her more deeply. "Oh! Yes! More!" she cried out.

He hadn't wanted this. He hadn't wanted it to be over so quickly. He had wanted to take his time with her, to make her moan and cry out his name and savour every minute of this night. The way she'd begged for more of him, nails clawing at his backside, had been what had spurred him to quicken his pace. He had tried to hold back, to keep himself from climaxing, but she squirmed beneath him, met his thrusts passionately, kissed him with such heat that he shuddered and collapsed in her arms within only two hours.

"Mmmmmm," she hummed against his temple as her own aftershocks subsided.

He struggled to catch his breath. "Cerise . . . I had . . . I wanted . . . to be with you . . . to hold you . . . all night . . ."

"Mmmfuh . . . I know . . . Me, too . . . You feel . . . so yummy . . . ohhhhh . . ."

They spent several minutes in comfortable silence, content simply to lie in each other's embrace.

"Naughty little demons need to be spanked, you know," he smirked into her neck.

"Indeed . . . And you've been very, _very_ naughty!"

"But how will you spank me . . . when you're all tied up?" In a blink, he had her hands tied to the bedposts. "Now . . . Just how naughty have you been, Cerise?"

He grasped her ankles and hoisted her legs straight up. The goosebumps coursing along her skin excited him. He cupped her bottom, caressing it before drawing his hand back. The _whack_ he gave her elicited a low moan. A sadistic grin spread across his face. Another smack, then another, in slow succession had her writhing against the pillows. She waited for the next strike, but he merely watched her, his eyes full of fire.

"Cole, please," she whimpered.

" _Please?_ You dare to ask me for anything when I hold you captive like this? You are at my mercy."

"Mmmm, m-m-more . . ."

"You think you _deserve_ more pleasure?" he asked, his voice edged with ice.

"I . . . I deserve . . . to be . . . oh . . . punished. Please, sir, punish me some more!"" Her chest heaved with every breath.

Securing her feet in the manacles newly dangling from the ceiling, he situated himself closer to her reddened skin. "Relax."

"Wh-" Her eyes rolled back as he pushed into her. "Co-o-o-ole . . . No one's ever . . . Ah!"

"Always remember," he snarled, punctuating each word with a thrust into her unexplored territory. "You belong to me."

She nodded; the intensity of his expression frightened her. Every part of her quivered, wondering where he'd turn his attention next.

His touch instantly turned gentle as he released her from her shackles. "My sweet Cerise, did you think that I would ever really hurt you?"

She sighed when his lips reached her shoulder. "Only in the most delicious ways."

* * *

A week later, Roderick had gained significant control over the energy balls Cole had granted him. Having learned the culinary arts from a master chef in France, he insisted on being allowed to cook for his hosts; serving the powerful was in his nature, he explained.

"My lady, I hate to be a bother, but I was wondering what you and the master might like for supper tonight?"

She looked up from what she was typing. "Oh, we have that dinner party to attend tonight, remember? No need to worry. Though we might want a bite of dessert when we get back."

He bowed. "Yes, of course. Shall I prepare anything in particular, or would you like me to surprise you?"

Cerise grinned. "Everything you make is absolutely scrumptious, Mr George; I trust whatever you might have for us will be a welcome treat."

"You flatter me."

"Nonsense. You are fantastic, and Mr Turner and I greatly appreciate all you do for us."

He turned towards the window, suddenly self-conscious. "I should give the glass a good cleaning; there are smudge marks everywhere."

She coughed to cover her giggling. "That's my fault. It was so lovely out last night, I suggested we stargaze for a bit on the balcony."

His eyes widened when he realised what the smudges were from. "You and the master are quite . . . affectionate."

"Quite," she agreed. "Well, then, I have a few things to take care of before tonight. I should be back in plenty of time. Toodle-oo."

"Tah-tah."

* * *

"Ah, Cerise, it's so good to see you!" Imara called out as her sister shimmered into her lair.

"Imara, my dear . . . Hard at work, I see."

"Well, one does need to keep busy," she remarked as she stirred the contents of her cauldron.

"You always did come up with the most intriguing concoctions. What's on the menu this time?"

"Oh, this is just some soup . . . A little something to reward my minions."

Cerise sighed. "Minions . . . I've rather envied your ability to attract demons into your service."

"Oh, pish! They only appreciate me for my mind and spellcasting."

"Yes, they respect you. You got all the brains in the family, and what did I get?"

"The beauty and the ability to turn any man's eye your way," Imara reminded her. "Rumour has it you've got the former Source in your bed."

With a chuckle, she nodded. "More like he's got me in _his_ bed."

"Aha!" She clapped her hands together and began singing, "Cole and Cerise, sitting in a tree . . . K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes lust, then comes mawwiage . . . then comes -

"Oh, hush, dear sister. I'm just a plaything for him, surely. A distraction while he -" She shook her head.

"Remember when we were younger, and you had that poster of Belthazor above your bed?"

"Gaw, you bring this up now?"

"You used to kiss it every night."

"And we'd talk about what we might do if one of us wound up on his arm. Yes, it was ages ago, but I remember it as well as you do."

Imara shot her a look. "Well, you're with him."

"But he's not Belthazor anymore," Cerise pointed out. "That part of himself was vanquished. Or stripped. Or . . ."

"Mmmm, the thought of him stripped isn't bad . . . How is he?"

She giggled. "Amazing. Oh, he does things to me no one's ever done before."

"Do tell."

"Well . . . Since he's indestructible now, I get to claw at him or whip him. He tosses me around the room and catches me. Then he contorts me into these bizarre positions that - Oh, it's difficult to describe. I'm not even sure how he manages to twist me up like that. And he's taken to chaining me to various parts of the bedroom and -" She pressed her lips together.

"And? And?" Imara prompted excitedly.

She looked around at the walls of the cavern. "Oh . . . he did something I've never let anyone do to me."

"But that leaves so few things . . . Oh! You mean he . . ." She ran a hand down the back of her skirts.

Cerise nodded. "While he was doing it, he told me to always remember that I was his. I'd never seen that expression on his face before. He frightened me."

"You obviously enjoyed it."

"His touch is like fire," she admitted quietly. "And I find that I like being burned this way. I only worry what will become of me when he tires of me and it's all over."


	6. Chapter 6

"Ah, there you are, Cerise," Cole remarked when she shimmered into the bedroom.

"Sorry to cut it so close, dearie; I went to talk to my sister."

"Ah. Of course. How is she?"

"She's as cunning as ever. She was making soup for her minions."

"Oh, no, not this again," he muttered as he pulled on a pair of black trousers.

"What?"

"The minions. We've talked about this."

"I know, and I agreed with what you said. Remember? We have enough with Mr George running errands for us."

"Yeah, but . . . " He took a deep breath. "Right. You _did_ say that. What are you planning on wearing tonight?"

"I was thinking of something simple." She whirled around to change into a business-like black knee-length skirt and fitted jacket ensemble.

"Very nice. But it could use a bit of . . . " He held up a small blue box.

"What's this?"

"Just a little token of my affection." He draped the silver chain around her neck and fastened it.

"Oh, Cole, it's lovely," she crooned as she admired the locket and the intertwined _CCT_ engraved on it.

"I had Mr George fashion the portraits," he informed her before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"They're perfect. Oh . . ." she sighed as his arms encircled her waist. "We don't want to be late, now, do we?"

He chuckled into the nape of her neck. "I know. Here, help me pick out a tie."

She conjured a charcoal grey tie and silver pin to match the locket.

"Very nice," he commented. "You have excellent taste, my sweet."

"Oh," she smiled demurely. "It's been a while since I've been to one of these. Should I take anything special?"

"Not to worry; I've got it taken care of. All you have to do is . . . be as enchanting as you always are."

* * *

 _at a five star hotel across town_

"Cerise, Cole, I wasn't sure you'd make it," Jezara greeted them.

"Yes, well, I thought it might do us both some good to come out and mingle," Cole replied drily. "I could use a drink."

They made their way to the bar where he ordered two whisky sours.

"Cole, you needn't have been so brusque with her," Cerise murmured.

He shrugged. "I've never exactly gotten along with her. Long story. Short version is that she wanted to work me with about a century ago, but I didn't want to work with her. She resented that for many years."

"Oh. So you avoid her rather than let it be awkward." She eyed him briefly before taking a delicate sip. "Oh, there's Kyra; I haven't seen her in ages. Try not to get into too much trouble, hm?"

He grinned amiably. "I'll do my best, my little tartlet."

Kyra's face burst into a grin when she noticed her old friend approaching. "Cerise, it's been too long."

"I know . . . Oh, you look wonderful."

She brushed off the compliment. "And you . . . You're absolutely glowing!"

"Oh, pish, you always say that . . . What've you been up to these nights?"

"The usual. And working as a fortune-teller for this little travelling carnival."

"Ah, as I recall, you always enjoyed that."

"Indeed. Telling someone what's in store can change the outcome. It's so easy to shape the future sometimes. As you're well aware. So . . . You and Cole Turner . . ."

Cerise merely smiled.

"Come on, Mona Lisa, the two of you are the talk of the Underworld lately."

"You're the Seer, dear cousin. You tell me how it's going."

She pressed her lips together. "I've seen you enjoying each other's company for some time in the future . . ."

"Aaaand?"

"Mmmmm . . . It's still a bit fuzzy. Things are coming together . . . Av-"

"Hello, Cerise," a deep voice intoned behind her.

Her blood ran cold. "Harshan," she hissed as she turned. "Well, I didn't expect to see you here."

"Oh, you know me. I never miss a party."

She kept her face blank. It would not do to cause a scene; that was exactly what he wanted.

"What? No hug for an old friend?" he crooned smugly.

"For a friend? Always. For you, no. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to freshen my drink. Care to join me, Kyra?"

"Of course. I could use a drink myself."

On the other side of the room, Cole was negotiating a trade.

"Fine, I'll throw the energy balls into the mix. How about the astral projection?"

The power broker considered this for a moment. "I will take the astral projection for . . . flame throwing. Do you happen to have a shimmer to spare?"

"Certainly. What the hell? I'll trade you a portal for a spindle."

"Done. Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Turner."

"Likewise, Mr Nichols."

The broker shimmered off on some other business, revealing a demon lurking in the dark corner. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the demon formerly known as Belthazor?"

"And you are?"

"You wound me, former Source. Surely, my reputation - Ah, she hasn't mentioned me. I'm not surprised. I suppose she doesn't want to make you jealous."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"Cerise, of course. Pretty little thing, isn't she? Everyone's had a turn. And everyone knows about the two of you. How it was only a matter of time before _you_ had a turn on her. Er, _with_ her, that is. So, how _is_ my Cherry Tart?"

* * *

 _back at the penthouse_

"Cole, you've been quiet ever since we left the hotel. Is anything wrong?"

"N- It's . . . Someone said something about you that's been hard to put out of my head."

"Oh? What was it?" She was accustomed to the gossip.

"That everyone had had a go at you."

"Ah."

"Did they?"

Her shoulders slumped. "Not everyone. I admit I did have my share of -" she waved her hand about. "But not more than anybody else my age has had. I was generally more concerned with splitting up mortal relationships. You've seen how I do that."

He blew out a sigh of relief. "What about Zankou?"

She scoffed. "Zankou? Is that what this is about? No, I certainly was not with him. Met him, spent some time with him, yes, but nothing more."

"He was there," he muttered.

"There? He got out?" she said more to herself that to him.

"Out?"

She snapped out of her reverie. "Sorry. The cavern - If he's found a way out of his prison, he'll be miffed. At me. I was the one who lured him into the trap. It took more than two dozen demons to lock him in there."

"Wh- How did you lure him?"

She couldn't meet his eyes. "He knew me by reputation, and even that was part of the ruse. I let him think . . . Well, we went to what he believed was a secluded cave where we could, um, have some fun. There was an ambush, and I pushed him into the stone cage. After that, everyone had a turn sealing him in."

 _'Everyone had a turn.'_ The phrase echoed in his head. "That's what he meant? The seal?"

She gazed at him inquisitively.

"He said everyone had a turn. The way he said it, he made it sound like he meant something else."

Her jaw tensed. "He would. After all that time stuck in that spot, I think he'd say anything - _do_ anything to wreak vengeance on all of us. He might try to take over."

"No."

Something in his tone had her wondering what Kyra had foreseen but refused to tell her.

* * *

 _Yes, I'm using some of the characters that showed up later in the series, but they'll not be quite the way they were presented onscreen. I hope this doesn't cause too much confusion._


End file.
